Always Know When To Seal Your Lips
by WhyNotJane
Summary: Darcy was surprised the man was still speaking English, but that was superheroes for you. Always coherent enough to sound stupid.
1. You Can Steal Something

**_You Can Steal Something (That's Already Yours)_**

When Pietro Maximoff first walked into Avengers tower, Darcy Lewis was too busy doing _very important things_ to stare at the admittedly gorgeous Sokovian.

Pietro Maximoff, on the other hand, was not at all too busy to stare at the back of the beautiful woman dancing in the communal kitchen as she cooked. A perfect row of cupcakes decorated in red, blue, and silver icing sat invitingly on the kitchen counter. His gaze flickered furiously between her backside and the cupcakes. Wanda, like a good sister, elbowed him viciously in the ribs, casing him to let out a loud shriek.

Darcy jumped at the sound, ripping her earphones out as she spun around. Pietro was immediately by her side, steadying her with one hand, a smirk the perfect expression on his already mischievous face. Darcy found herself melting unconsciously into his chest at his warm, confident touch.

"What is a beautiful girl doing here all by herself?" he asked smoothly, in an accent that had yet to fail him when it came to the ladies.

So he was very surprised when the gorgeous woman snorted, and pushed herself off his chest.

"I'd have to be pretty damn drunk to fall for a line that bad," Darcy laughed, dusting flour covered hands off on her pants.

"Pietro Maximoff, right?" she asked, still grinning, "I'm Darcy. Clint warned me you had a thing for one liners. Though I got the impression you had a little more originality than that."

"Barton would not know originality if it shot him in the ass," Pietro snapped, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"And neither would my brother," Wanda's quiet voice said. Both turned to see the small woman staring at them pensively, a tiny wrinkle between her brows. Pietro immediately frowned at his sister, as if silently asking her if everything was okay. She didn't say anything back, but Darcy was suddenly filled with an unsure feeling, bordering on nausea. Wanda blinked, and the feeling was gone leaving Darcy feeling slightly stunned.

"Our rooms, where are they?" he asked Darcy sharply, rushing to his sister's side.

"Uh, your apartment's down the hall. Tony said you were rooming together?" she said, surprised at his abrupt change in attitude. Where was the lighthearted flirt from a second ago? Nevertheless, she set off down the hall.

"We are not used to being separated," Pietro said, eyes still studying his sister's face as he followed Darcy down the hall, a gentle arm wrapped around Wanda's shoulders.

Darcy held the door open for them, Wanda walking inside as her frown deepened, Pietro following. He turned around, and Darcy was surprised by how closed off his face was.

"You can go now," he said, shutting the door in her face.

"Wow," Darcy muttered, frowning at the door, "I'd need a shit ton of vodka," she muttered to herself, walking back into the kitchen. Though she hoped Wanda was okay, Pietro's suddenly dismissive attitude toward her hurt, a lot more than a stranger's dislike should. What had caused him to become so closed off?

As she reached the bench, a door creaked as it opened, and a wind swept around the open communal space, sending her hair flying in front of her face, obscuring her vision.

She spat her hair out of her mouth, and haphazardly tugged it out from behind her glasses, staring at the fluttering curtains in front of her. She wasn't sure if that particular shade was Iron Man red, or royal opulence vermillion. She wouldn't put Stark past either.

But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what had just happened. Or what the hell was wrong with Stark.

Wind whistled through the pristine halls again, and Pietro was in front of her, the same smirk decorating his face. But even in the split second, Darcy could detect another emotion lurking in his eyes, something oddly familiar to regret.

"Wh-?" she began, blinking as he bent down and kissed her briefly on the tip of her nose without saying a word. In another blink, he was gone.

Darcy found herself staring blankly at the swaying red curtains. Her hand went up to her nose. The usually cold tip was still warm.

Deciding that the tingling in her lady-parts was definitely not appropriate, especially for someone who apparently didn't know how to say sorry, she gritted her teeth and marched into the kitchen. To find half of her iced cupcakes gone, along with the bowl of cake batter she had been mixing.

"Asshole," she decided firmly, never mind that she made them for him anyway.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Darcy rarely spotted the Maximoff twins, and one was never without the other. When she did sit down in the communal game room to watch _Galavant_ (there is something to be said for darkly humorous musicals) two sets of eyes drilled into her head from a shadowy corner. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what it was that had caused Wanda to seem so unnerved when they first met. Had she looked into the darkest corners of Darcy's mind, and seen something lurking?

Deciding that she really needed to let go of her fear of being mind-read (she fetched poptarts for a living for Thor's sake, what exactly was her dastardly plan?) Darcy looked over to the twins, and sent them her best 'I-am-an-adorable-poptart-fetcher-and-you-will-adore-me' smile.

She almost didn't notice the tentative smile Wanda sent her back when Pietro's eyes bore suspiciously into her skull. His gaze flickered downward, then slowly travelled back up her body. A smirk ticked the corner of his mouth.

"So, how'd you like the cupcakes?" Darcy said, determined not to let the very attractive man smirking at her attractively distract her.

"They were perfect," Wanda said sincerely, though Darcy had the impression the girl was still wary of her.

"I've heard stolen food tastes sweeter," Darcy teased gently, trying to set Wanda at ease with gentle ribbing. Wanda smiled, as if she knew exactly what Darcy was trying to do (she's a mind reader. She probably did), but her brother was the one to answer.

By disappearing of the couch with a _woosh!_

Awkwardly, Darcy turned to Wanda, who was still studying her intently.

"Some people just can't hold their humorously rhymed lyrics," Darcy joked, trying not to grit her teeth at Pietro's teen angst.

"My brother is an idiot," Wanda said, titling her head as she watched expressions flit across Darcy's face.

 _A very muscly idiot_ , Darcy thought gloomily, _with his swooshy hair, and his stupid accent, and his pathetic pick up lines._

Wanda's smile widened, and she settled back into the comfortable couch.

* * *

The next time Darcy saw the twins, she was supposed to be picking up some of Jane's equipment that Stark had 'fixed'. He was snapping at Wanda, claiming her weird magic/science abilities were messing with his equipment.

"Stop sending out your freaky mind-waves, Sabrina, you're screwing with data that can't just be fixed with a wiggle of a nose!"

Before either Maximoff twin could even think of responding, Darcy had stepped in front of Wanda, hands on her hips.

"First off, pointing is rude, Stark. Second, do you even know if it is Wanda, or if your machines are just screwy?" Darcy asked the question rhetorically, but Tony was already opening his mouth to protest her disbelief in the brilliance of his machines.

"If Jane's machines are less than perfectly calibrated, not only will I break every coffee machine on this floor, I will call Pepper," she talked over his protests, "And for Thor's sake, stop mixing your pop culture witches". She could feel two sets of eyes burning into the back of her skull, but she ignored him. _Them_.

"We're done here," she stated firmly. Scowling, Stark jerked his head to the huge machine in the corner of the lab. It looked less like an early nineties plastic monstrosity than before, at least twice as heavy, and suspiciously like a certain droid from everyone's favourite space franchise.

Glaring at it, Darcy tried not to sigh. Or kick the R2-D2 lookalike to a pulp.

"Jarvis, can you call someone with really big muscles, preferably with arms the size of my head. Is Steve free? Cause his ass would really bring some sunshine into my depressingly maudlin day," she said, and she surprised herself with how not-sad she sounded.

But before Jarvis could reply, or Captain Tight-Pants could bless Darcy with his glorious behind, red lights floated around Jane's newly modified machine, lifting it daintily into the air, and out the automatic doors.

Eyes wide, Darcy turned to see Wanda making small, delicate movements with her hand, like a ballet dance. The smaller woman didn't smile, but her eyes twinkled as she followed the mind-propelled machine out the corridor. Darcy's mouth shut with a click.

"Uh, so I guess you can tell Captain Rogers his muscles and beautiful behind will not be needed, Jarvis," Darcy said, clamping down on her disbelief as she followed Wanda out the door, Pietro uncomfortably close on her heels.

"I'll be sure to relay your exact sentiments to the Captain," Jarvis said dryly.

"Jarvis, you always know how to brighten my day," Tony beamed, and the automatic doors slid shut behind them. Darcy groaned. Now Captain America is gong to frown awkwardly at her and shuffle out of the room. Or tease her mercilessly. She wasn't entirely sure which.

Wanda had already disappeared down the hall, presumably to Jane's lab, but the real shocker was that Pietro didn't immediately follow. Instead, he walked next to Darcy silently, and after a minute, she realised he was trying to synchronize his steps with hers.

Darcy decreased her pace, and he stumbled. A gleeful sense of victory held Darcy's head high as she marched past him.

A smooth "I think the perfection of the cupcakes had more to do with their maker," was whispered in her ear, in reference to how she'd teased Wanda earlier. Pietro's accent still as sexy as the day they met. And just like that day, he knew it.

Her hair was flung forward as a blur of silver and blue raced through the corridor in front of her. Darcy spat her hair out of her mouth with vicious force. What was this guy's problem?

When she marched back into the lab, Jane's machine sat quietly in the far corner, Wanda nowhere in sight. Belatedly realising she forgot to thank her, Darcy slumped in her chair, shame and anger bubbling inside her. On her desk, meticulous piles had been shifted and knocked over in the short time she had been gone. On top, a takeaway coffee cup perched carefully, steam still rising.

Her name was written in spiky, masculine letters across the cardboard, and the relaxing scents of chocolate and coffee floated into her nose. Smiling, Darcy sipped, surprised to taste whipped cream, and an overload of sugar. Jane always hated sugary drinks, claiming they did awful things to the body. Darcy was pretty sure women who scarf down poptarts like they were being discontinued had no room to stand in this particular argument.

So when Jane started shrieking at R2D2 modifications Tony had made to her equipment, Darcy quietly nodded along, clutching the warm cup to her chest. Despite being science-brained, Jane was her best friend, knowing some days the only things that worked for Darcy were chocolate and coffee. Having noticed Darcy was having a bad day, and bought her favourite drink. Or, more likely, asked someone else to, and promptly forgotten about it.

Either way, Jane was a good friend, so Darcy cheered on as Jane smashed the uselessly blinking red light, and sat with her plotting revenge.

* * *

Darcy found Pietro's presence to be _irritating_. Sometimes like an itch, but mostly like a vicious wasp sting. He skulked around the labs, causing small cyclones at least once a day, making papers fly and Jane yell. Darcy was pretty sure the astrophysicist was plotting some form of revenge against the speedster, because when she'd gone to type Jane's notes up after a long night of _scienceing_ , a highly detailed diagram of water bombs and how to position them were written in the columns of a report.

And when Darcy made Sunday dinner for the team, he hung around the kitchen like a fly on crack. She wasn't sure what the light was in this metaphor- the food or herself- but either way he was getting on her nerves.

Because the hanging around, Darcy could handle. Heck, she might even find it adorable in the right mood. But he didn't _say_ anything, except for the occasional 'hello'. He just hovered, smirking at her, getting in the way, and generally being annoying.

When she eventually tired of whatever he thought he was doing, which usually took her fifteen to twenty minutes, she would turn and glare at him. Perhaps it wasn't Black Widow worthy, but each time the smirk would drop off his face, and he'd disappear. Darcy would only feel a little guilty. After all, he still hadn't apologized for being a jerk and stealing her cupcakes.

When his gush of wind made her drop a massive dish of lasagna on the floor, she let out a snarl. She took a deep breath, setting about making the floor even cleaner then it had been earlier.

"Jarvis? Can you order dinner from the Chinese restaurant everyone likes, enough for the whole team?" she asked, and if Jarvis noted how her voice was peculiarly calm, he didn't mention it.

"Of course Miss Darcy. Is there anything else?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, is Clint back from visiting the fam?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you like me to ask Agent Barton to the kitchen?"

"Can you ask him to meet me and Jane in the labs? We've got some planning to do."

The combined brains of Jane and Clint were a horrifying force when it came to planning revenge. When Clint had vetoed most of Jane's ideas (too cruel) and Darcy's (too passive-aggressive), Jane eventually broke into an evil grin.

"I know. One problem," her smile dropped slightly, "what if Wanda finds out?"

Remembering the sigh Wanda had given as she told Darcy about her idiotic brother, Darcy grinned.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

* * *

 **Please review. A second of your time makes my day.**


	2. Wile E Coyote caught Road Runner Once

_The Incredibles-the gift that just keeps on giving._

 _ **AvengerFrost:** I really hope you enjoy, though I am sorry for the long wait! I uploaded to Ao3, then forgot about ... __oopsie?_

 _ **Guest1:** Sorry, Magneto will not be in this story. I haven't seen the movies, or read any comics (though I have seen the kids tv show...) so any attempt at writing him would probably be sucky, and I'll try to spare you that! I adore Pietro and Wanda, and I hate what happened to him in the movie. Why must they break my heart? But thank you for the awesome review!_

 _ **Guest2:** Definitely writing more! I just can't get enough of this pairing!_

 _ **Sodaluv8:** I have several more chapters planned. I love Darcy too, and I knew full well what was going to happen when I walked into the movie theatre... yet I let myself get attached anyway. You are not alone. Thank you!_

* * *

 _ **Wile E. Coyote caught Road Runner. Once.**_

The next day, Darcy and Jane had taken a break from _science!_ to work out in the gym, which should have been enough to raise any watchful eyebrows. The fact that their exercise mainly consisted of evil giggles and throwing exercise balls at each other should have tipped off anyone else.

Clint rolled his eyes at them when he arrived for the scheduled team training session, but he gave them a short nod to signal that everything was a go, before joining the rest of the Avengers in the middle of the large room. From the curious looks the team sent the girls' way, they were well aware something was up. Except for Wanda, who only smiled to herself.

When Tony asked Thor what they were up to, the large man shrugged.

"The similarity between the ladies and my brother is becoming extremely apparent," he said solemnly, eyes twinkling.

"If you're trying to tell me they have brainwashed you and are trying to take over the world," Tony muttered, turning to frown suspiciously at the grinning women, "I believe you."

Before Thor could retort, the automatic doors opened and a blur, followed by a gust of wind raced through the door.

Pietro came to a stop right in front of Darcy, clad in his silver training top and dark pants. It always amazed Darcy that he could stop so suddenly without tripping over himself, but today she wasn't there to admire- though the smirk on his face clearly said he thought otherwise.

"Enjoying the view, Darcy?" he asked mischievously, well aware of how his shirt clung to his defined chest.

"We _were_ ," Darcy replied, lips breaking into a sickly sweet smile, "now could you move out of the way, you're obstructing our view."

Pietro grinned in reply, but Tony burst into laughter, going so far as to bend down and slap himself on the knee-though Darcy was well aware her comment hadn't been that amusing. Apparently he and Pietro were still at odds, and for some reason, this irritated her.

"You too, Stark," Darcy yelled, "I can't see Wilson from behind your old man ass."

Stark scowled good-naturedly and moved, Sam sending her a wink.

"Okay, everyone knows their warm up routine? You've got fifteen minutes, then we'll be going over team strategy. We all work really well by ourselves, but I think we all need some practice with working together," Steve said cheerfully.

"Says the guy with a hero complex," Tony smirked, crossing his arms.

Darcy winced as Steve looked up at the other man, but he only nodded.

"Exactly," Steve agreed with Tony, causing the genius to frown suspiciously.

"Fifteen minutes," Steve called, walking over to a treadmill. Darcy didn't miss the slight twitch of his lips as he turned the machine on.

Jane nudged her, and Darcy managed to drag her eyes away from Steve's glorious butt (sorry Sam) .

Pietro had already started up his specially designed treadmill, his arms and legs a blur, but his face still. It was surprisingly serene as he listened to the music from his earphones. Darcy and Jane settled back to watch.

It was less than two minutes before Steve stopped running to sniff the air carefully. Because of course super soldier senses would notice something first.

"Can anyone smell smoke?" he asked curiously, and slightly suspiciously, looking around.

The various other members of the Avengers paused in their warm up activities to sniff the air.

"JARVIS, is there anything wrong with my tower?" Tony asked worriedly.

"No sir. All sensors are working to full capacity, and they have not detected anything amiss with the tower, though Mr Maximoff is emitting a strong heat signature," JARVIS answered.

As one, the Avengers turned to look at Pietro. With his headphones in, he was completely zoned out, the only one still running madly on his treadmill, legs and arms not much but a grey blur.

"The increased friction would create more heat," Tony observed, "but didn't he say he had clothes from a specially designed material?"

Jane let out a snigger that she tried to hide with a cough, but she wasn't fooling anyone. Darcy sat back and grinned.

It soon became obvious that it wasn't the speed alone creating the grey blur. A soft stream of pale smoke was wafting away from him, high towards the ceiling.

Pietro stopped, tumbling off his still racing treadmill and scrambling for his shirt.

" _Sranje_!" he yelped, not bothering to pull it over his head, simply tearing the smoldering fabric to pieces and throwing it onto the mat.

He stood there, face bewildered as he stared down at his shirt, chest heaving. The only sound in the room was his deep breaths and his treadmill still whirring away.

It was that second his pants decided to give up too, and they fell straight off his hips.

"Guess that answers boxers or briefs," Jane whispered to Darcy, who choked on a snort.

Unfortunately, in the silence, nearly everyone in the room heard her comment, and bursts of laughter bubbled out. Even Steve was biting back a grin.

Pietro looked up, his grey eyes focusing on Darcy.

"You switched my clothes," he said accusing look slowly shifting into a mischievous grin. He straightened up, well aware that good posture accentuated certain features, and took several slow, deliberate steps towards her.

Darcy found herself regretting the prank as he smiled down at her, close enough to feel his heightened body temperature. _Boxer briefs. Kill me now,_ she thought desperately, subconsciously trying not to breathe in his scent.

"You wanted to see me naked, _lutka_ , all you had to do was ask," he assured her sweetly. As Darcy spluttered, he winked, then turned and bowed low to their viewers, giving Darcy a pretty awesome view.

The Avengers cheered and clapped, no longer bothering to hide their laughter. Tony let out a wolf whistle, and Wanda collapsed on the ground in giggles.

Pietro laughed back as he exited to find where his real clothes were hidden.

Darcy couldn't help herself. After that little display, she desperately wanted the last word, no matter how petty and pathetic her comment.

"Meep meep," she muttered.

* * *

Sorting through paperwork after spending her morning a far more entertaining way was a let down, yet Darcy was relieved. The prank had worked perfectly, Clint using his super spy skills to swap out Pietro's clothes with normal fabric. And they didn't have to worry about him getting hurt, because super healing. All Jane and Darcy had to do was watch.

But their little confrontation had made Darcy an unfortunate mess of emotions. He hadn't seemed angry or annoyed in the slightest. In fact, she would go as far as saying he was happy about the whole thing. Was he right? Did she really agree to this plan just to see him nearly nude? And if so, did that mean she liked the guy who spent the majority of his day annoying her, and had been down right rude the first time they met? Did that make her a bad cliche?

No, she decided, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or at the floor when there was a really hot nearly naked dude standing in front of her. Whatever the expression was.

It didn't stop the awful conflicted feeling in her chest from weighing her down.

She went back to her mind-numbingly boring paperwork.

* * *

That night Darcy fell asleep on the couch in Jane's lab, emotionally and physically exhausted after helping her friend blow up Tony's carefully designed comfy chair. After all, if Jane helped with Pietro, it was only fair she helped get revenge on Tony's Star Wars themed prank.

Physically, there was a lot of running (turns out she was a lot faster when she was 73% sure someone was trying to kill her) and emotionally... Pepper gave her a 'talking to'. This was not including the happenings of earlier in the day.

Darcy was pretty sure her brain was fried. Or maybe that was just the excessive cardio.

When she woke up, a blanket was tucked carefully around her, right up to her nose. Slowly, she sat up, blinking owlishly, until she realised her glasses had been removed. They sat folded on the coffee table, and when she finally put them on, the imprint of a body in the fabric of the armchair next to the couch was obvious.

Wriggling her toes, Darcy rolled off the couch to a standing position. Frowning, she touched the fabric of the armchair. It was warm to the touch, causing the lines between her brows to deepen.

"Jane?" Darcy called uncertainly, blanket trailing behind her like a cape.

* * *

Cricking her neck sharply, Darcy ignored the brown eyes and subtle smirk being sent her way from the opposite chair. Pietro Maximoff was a god damn asshole. A food stealing, nose kissing, panty melting, accent of a jerk.

She thought she was doing a pretty good job at ignoring him too, until Steve coughed.

"Um, Darce, is everything okay?" he asked. Blinking, she came to the embarrassing realization that she had been glaring at Steve for Thor knows how long. Said alien god, along with the rest of the Avengers and Co, were staring at her worriedly, as if she was about to start shooting. Or maybe throw up.

"Fine, yeah, I'm good, just a bit of a headache," Darcy admitted, reaching up to adjust her glasses. She noticed that her headache was smirking at her across the table, relaxing back in his grey office chair, somehow still looking like a freaking model.

Adjusting her smile, she threw a pile of papers onto the table, bracing herself.

"I know you guys don't enjoy the handshaking and tux-wearing outings, but you'll like this one. You'll be going to a few children's hospitals in the city. Transport is already arranged, just show up in your superhero-ing outfits," Darcy said, trying not to feel too gleeful that no one had picked up an itinerary to check there wonderful event coordinator was being truthful.

"And Thor, maybe it would be wise not to tell the kids about monsters that hide in shadows and make all your friends hate you," she suggested, wincing as his face fell, "Stick to Bilgesnipe, big guy. I guarantee the kids'll love hearing how Lady Sif defeated it."

Because the shadow beast story had been one hell of a disaster. Not only had it terrified the poor kids, but once a major news outlet got hold of it, New York's population went back to frowning at the sky for a few weeks. Darcy was only slightly surprised Thor hadn't been massacred by the news for telling the kids that one, but apparently only Loki had been capable of hating the big puppy.

"I shall tell how Jane defeated the Dark Elves through her advanced use of astrophysics. And how you disarmed me during our first meeting!" Thor beamed.

Relaxing, Darcy gave her first honest smile of the day.

"Sounds perfect, big guy," she agreed.

"Darcy..." Bruce trailed off, and she spun around to see the doctor had taken an itinerary without her notice. Her heart dropped.

"You haven't mentioned the gala next week. Is it a typo?" he asked, frowning up at her.

Darcy let out a breath through clenched teeth, air whistling between the gaps, creating an odd hissing noise.

"It's held by the Mayor of New York's wife, and you all ditched the last one. She's not happy, and we need to be on these people's good side, if you're going to continue ruining this city," Darcy explained in one breath.

"I was looking for Bucky," Steve said, blue eyes huge and innocent.

"Jane needed someone to carry her machines into the tower," Thor said gallantly.

"Me and Nat hadn't seen Laura and the kids in ages," Barton said, not pulling off the wide eyed look nearly as well as Steve did.

"My sister was having a baby," Sam sounded outraged, but when Darcy glared at him, he shrugged.

"I just really didn't want to go," he admitted.

"I don't care where you were, so long as you are at that ball next Saturday. Everyone will be on their best behaviour, otherwise the next super villain you'll have to take down will be me. And I know all your weaknesses," she said, glaring at them all. Was it that hard to simply smile, and nod, and not show off?

Steve still had that innocent look on, but don't get her started on him. Steve, the ass, got into a loud argument with a politician about minimum wage. Though it made him unpopular with the richer crowds, Darcy had to admit, he had always fought for the underdog. Steve himself seemed to take particular glee when he dominated the front pages for some other reason then saving the world.

Darcy was again glaring at Steve, so she didn't notice Wanda tap Natasha on the shoulder, and whisper something into the other woman's ear.

"We'll be there," Natasha said firmly, making the rest of the Avengers groan as Darcy let out a sigh of relief. Though technically she and Steve were co-leaders, not even the great Captain America would dare argue with the Black Widow when she had that particular look in her eye.

"But if we are to be on our best behaviour, you must come with us. Pietro especially doesn't know what New York's elite would consider disrespectful. He's never been to one of these events," Natasha said innocently.

"And his english is not always so good," Wanda added helpfully, masterfully ignoring the glare her brother sent her way.

"I - I do not need a babysitter," Pietro muttered, still too wary at Natasha to snap at her. Probably for the best.

"He's right," Darcy agreed, "If he fucks up, he'll just have to deal with the consequences." She crossed her arms tightly, but Natasha did not budge.

 _Nope, nope, not happening, of all the stupid fuckery_ , Darcy's mind raced.

"That would be bad for the team, Darcy," Natasha said, "You said we need these people to be on our side, so they don't get mad next time we flatten the city. And you are in charge of our media relations. Come with us for one fancy night, show Pietro what to do, and you can go back to eating ice cream on your couch on Saturday nights."

Darcy blinked. She was pretty sure the spy had never said half that many words to her altogether, let alone at once. And if she was to be honest with herself, that alone was enough to make her start caving.

"I know a shop that sells beautiful vintage ball gowns. My treat," Natasha said sweetly.

Darcy groaned.

* * *

 _(The running-so-fast-clothes-catch-fire thing came from The Incredibles, though I believe it was featured on The Flash recently.)_

 **Please review. A second of your time makes my day.**


	3. Play Thos Suckers

_Two chapters in one night? Oh my!_

* * *

 _ **Play Those Suckers (Like An Elaborate Chess Game)**_

Natasha was right. But then, when wasn't she? Claudette's held a beautiful range of unique dresses, perfect for someone with Darcy's figure.

Wanda, upon entering the store, immediately rushed to a flowing red dress, and smiled.

"I'll take this," she told the assistant, who smiled politely at her.

"Wouldn't you like to try it on first?" the woman asked, in a tone that said Wanda would have to be an idiot not to.

"It'll fit," Wanda said firmly, walking over to the counter.

Darcy bit back a grin as the woman scowled at her back, stomping after the dainty girl, glad that Wanda hadn't taken offense at the prank, and that firm tone was not directed at her. But soon the smile had wiped off her face as Natasha shoved her arms full of delicate dresses. Did she expect her to try them all?

The answer was yes. And the spy's satisfaction was not something easily achieved. Despite Darcy having quite liked the blue, full skirt dress, Natasha had just shaken her head and ordered Darcy to take it off.

Darcy was beginning to see why Natasha was such a good Avenger. She tackled everything in her path calmly, with no little strength, holding herself strong. Even now, stuck in a dressing room in nothing but her underwear, arms sore form constantly holding them over her head, Darcy's admiration for the other woman grew.

"Try this!" Wanda called, passing Darcy a gorgeous green dress. Darcy sighed, exhausted, and slipped into the heavy velvet gown. Before she stepped out to show the others, she caught sight of her reflection. The sweetheart neckline emphasized her breasts, without making them look pornographic, full skirt clinging gently to her hips before flowing out to swish at her feet with every step.

Grinning, she walked out to the others, and twirled. As silly as it sounded, this dress made her feel perfect, like a princess. And from the smile on the other women's faces, they agreed.

* * *

Leaving a shop with a gorgeous dress carefully packaged and lingerie to match, had never felt so exciting. Or perhaps the buzz was simply from being in the Black Widow's presence and not dying a mysterious and tragic death. Both ideas were equally exciting, but that didn't stop Darcy from breathing a small sigh of relief when Natasha decided to continue on her own.

In the back seat of the taxi, Wanda grinned at Darcy, who happily smiled back.

"I know what you did," Darcy said suddenly, smile dropping off her face, "I just don't know why."

Instead of denying that she had been the one to suggest to Natasha that Pietro needed chaperoning, Wanda shrugged, an odd glint in her brown eyes.

"Did they tell you the..." Wanda paused, searching for the english words, "the full capabilities of my powers?"

Darcy frowned at the other girl, noticing that while the mischievous twinkle had not left her eyes, there was something else hiding in their gem like depths.

"I know you have telekinesis, you can read minds, suggest ideas to people," Darcy said slowly, trying to match Wanda's careful stare.

Not replying, Wanda continued to stare at the other girl. Darcy wanted to fidget under Wanda's gaze, but stopped herself, staring back. Wanda's lips ticked upwards, and she turned to face the taxi driver, handing a handful of cash that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Sliding delicately out of her seat, Wanda turned to look back at Darcy, framed by the entrance to Stark tower.

"My brother is not used to not getting what he wants," she said, as if this explained everything. Shopping in hand, she danced up the steps into the Tower, leaving Darcy frowning after her.

"Twins," she muttered irritably, hauling her bags out behind her.

* * *

Two days later, Darcy yawned as she made the trek to her office, coffee clutched to her chest. Opening the door, she switched on the light, only to realise she had in fact switched it off.

Puzzled, Darcy's hand moved carefully towards her tazer, ready to fling her hot coffee at the first sign of movement.

Then the coffee was out of her hands, splashing across the carpeted floor. Pietro Maximoff stood directly in front of her, attempting to scare her by towering over her. Not only was he not as tall as some other men in her life, but Darcy was not cowed by male posturing.

Wondering if now was a good time to apologise, then deciding she didn't need to, she elbowed him in the stomach, marched past him, and slouched down in her spiny chair.

"Why did you feel the need to stalk my office at such an ungodly hour?" she asked, touching her fingertips together like a B movie super villain.

Pietro glowered at her.

Darcy was pretty sure she should have taken the time to apologise.

"There is something Wanda is not telling me about you," he said, crossing his arms across his perfectly gorgeous chest. Darcy, thankfully, did not drool over beautiful jerks. Mostly.

But the statement was still confusing, so she matched his posturing, crossing both her arms and legs.

"Sorry you feel that way, but I don't know what your talking about. Other than that I usually feel like I'm not getting the whole picture when I talk to your sister," Darcy admitted, swinging around in her chair to turn on her computer.

"You do not understand," Pietro sounded frustrated, "we tell each other everything."

Darcy cocked her head, turning around slowly, "But not everything, everything, right?" she said.

"Everything," Pietro was still glowering, but by now Darcy had realised it was directed more at himself than anyone else.

"So your sister knows what kinda woman gets you hot and bothered? Who you've got a crush on? And why you steal homemade cupcakes?" Darcy demanded, nose wrinkled.

Pietro opened his mouth, then closed it.

"That is not what I said," he eventually snapped, disappearing in a small surge of wind, her door slamming shut behind him.

Darcy rolled her eyes, then groaned when she saw the remnants of her coffee seeping into the grey carpet.

Her door swung open again, to reveal Pietro standing awkwardly in the doorway, hands holding something behind his back.

"The old man says I have to ask you what colour your dress is, so we match," he said, not sulkily, but with a hint of a whinge in his voice.

"Geez, sorry going to a ball with me is such hard work," Darcy said dryly, rolling her eyes, "And if you keep calling Clint that, you'll wakeup one night covered in rainbow glitter. And it will never come out." It was truly a struggle not to make a joke about it being the herpes of the craft world, but apparently restraining herself from yelling at the tv when prominent politicians were fucking up had payed off.

Pietro's pout was quickly replaced with a smirk, one that lifted his whole face. Darcy very much did not feel her lady parts tingle. Nope. Not a bit.

"Darcy, what colour gown will you wear to the ball, please?" he asked huskily, not quite begging, but his brown eyes shone just the same.

Pausing, Darcy wondered if she should be petty, then shrugged.

"Emerald green. Don't worry too much about it," she said, turning back to her computer in a clear dismissal. While she loved having the eye candy around, she did not enjoying having him around.

To her surprise, she didn't feel him leave, and soon a scrubbing sound stared up. Wondering if she was going to get vertigo, Darcy spun back around in her chair.

Pietro was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing away with a hard bristled brush at the coffee stain on the floor.

Darcy was so stunned by this, that she forget to tell him to stop.

"What are you doing?" she asked, jumping out of the chair.

"Cleaning the carpet," Pietro said, "I did spill your drink," he admitted, scrubbing all the faster.

"Stop!" Darcy yelled, and he did, staring up at her, a bewildered, and slightly hurt expression on his face. Darcy immediately felt like a horrible person. She sighed, squeezing her eyes tight.

"Sorry, I... was just surprised," she half lied, sitting back into her chair guiltily.

Pietro immediately fixed her with his gorgeous brown eyes, smirk playing at his lips. He rolled up his sleeves, displaying his tight muscles, then went back to scrubbing at the carpet. Darcy swallowed, turning back to her work. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what the newest memo was trying to tell her.

She also couldn't figure out how to tell Pietro that scrubbing the coffee stain would only grind it further into the carpet without sounding ungrateful. Most people would not have thought to clean up a spilt coffee, let alone go to the lengths Pietro had to clean it up.

Darcy supposed she could get used to a permanent brown patch on her carpet. Though she did wonder how long he'd be showing off those arms before he gave up trying to get the stain out. Maybe it wasn't a total loss after all.

* * *

Later that day, half an hour after Pietro finally gave up (and Darcy had to give it to him, he was determined) a fresh cup of her favourite steaming mocha sat on her desk. Touched, Darcy hummed as she smelled the delicious aroma drifting from the cup. After today, she was beginning to think that maybe Pietro wasn't quite so bad.

Not that she'd ever regret the prank. It was both well deserved and priceless.

Of course, the ball a few days later made her realise first impressions were usually correct.

* * *

Darcy was busy explaining to Pietro that no, hiding in the shadows of the ballroom was Bruce and Clint's thing, and thus the brooding member of the team was already taken. And no, telling the politicians about how their policies would affect the population was out. Steve caused more than enough havoc in that department, and though she agreed with every word that left the captain's mouth, her work hours increased exponentially every time he opened it.

"We've already got Tony playing the flamboyant asshole, so just act like a gentleman. If you can manage that," Darcy quipped gently.

Pietro frowned, slouched in his suit on the back seat of the limousine.

"What is 'flamboyant'?" he asked. Darcy couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. The little wrinkle between his brows as he thought was adorable.

"Over the top," Darcy explained, "Just be polite, you'll be fine."

Adjusting her dress, she patted him awkwardly on the knee. He looked up, and gave her a lopsided smile, showing off a dimple in one cheek.

"Wanda always knows what to say," he admitted quietly.

"Your sister is reading their minds, and playing those suckers like an elaborate chess game. Just be glad your not one of them," Darcy said kindly, turning to stare out the tinted windows at the hoards of photographers gathered in front of the building.

As Happy came and opened the door for her, she could have sworn she heard Pietro mutter, "I am not so sure of that."

* * *

 _ **Please review. A second of your time makes my day.**_


End file.
